


The One Where Steve and Bucky Have A Meltdown in Whole Foods

by tuesdaymidnight



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Avengers Banter, Banter, Crack, Food, Gen, Humor, Steve Rogers hates quinoa, Whole Foods, i'm kind of obsessed with what Steve Rogers thinks about food in the 21st century, some feelings get involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:46:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6509182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaymidnight/pseuds/tuesdaymidnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an attempt to feel normal, Steve and Bucky go grocery shopping. They make the mistake of going to "Whole Paycheck" and are increasingly horrified at food in the 21st century. The rest of the team doesn't get it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Steve and Bucky Have A Meltdown in Whole Foods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [donnersun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/donnersun/gifts).



> This is what happens when [donnersun](http://archiveofourown.org/users/donnersun/) and I are left alone together unsupervised. 
> 
> And I know that Steve grew up in the city, but he and presumably Bucky were poor, so they would have learned ways to save food and make it stretch. Also, comic book Bucky was from Indiana (like me!), so I’m pretending that his family moved to Brooklyn from Indiana and his grandmother knew a few farm wife tricks.
> 
> Rated M for language--Steve and Bucky curse like sailors.

“What the fuck is quinoa?” Bucky asked.

“It’s like eating half-sprouted horse feed,” Steve said, making a face of disgust. “It tastes like a dirty dish rag. We had better shit in Toulouse, when we were stuck in the woods eating mushrooms and grass before supply could get there.”

“Those weren’t mushrooms, Stevie. Those were truffles. People pay 100 bucks for oil made out of that shit.”

“That’s what they taste like, too,” Steve said as he pushed the cart faster past the quinoa section of Whole Foods to where Bucky was standing in front of the pasta, looking increasingly irritated.

“How many fucking shapes of pasta do people need? Bow ties, wheels--the fuck is this? What happened to normal shit like spaghetti?”

“They have that, too,” Steve said, pointing to the bottom shelf.

“Gluten free fettucine,” Bucky read off a package. “Gluten-free, sugar-free, fat-free? What the hell is everyone’s problem? Where do they get off passing this off as health food? None of this shit has normal ingredients in it. Remember Mama Lucia’s? She used to roll out the ravioli every morning. Flour, egg, water.” 

“We’d better avoid the cereal aisle then,” Steve said. “I thought I was safe with bran flakes--bran flakes. How can you fuck up bran flakes? But they were so sweet I thought my teeth were going to rot. You should see the shit Clint eats. They put marshmallows in cereal now. Clint eats it with chocolate milk.”  

“It’s the same with motherfucking bread,” Bucky said tugging the cart around the corner toward the bread. “This isn’t bread. A nine-grain, sprouted fucking sponge is what this is. I bet no one in this goddamn store can name nine grains. Can you name nine grains?” Bucky shouts at the store clerk--a very frightened young woman with 10 rings in each ear and purple hair. 

“Bucky, don’t--I’m sorry, Miss. He does--what the fuck? This bread has quinoa in it! Motherfucking, son of--that’s it. We’re making our own bread.”

“Do you know how to make bread?”

“I’ll figure it out. Come on, we need the baking aisle.”

Steve grabbed Bucky by the arm and dragged him away from the bread leaving the clerk behind with her jaw hanging open.

After finding normal flour and baking soda, Steve was starting to feel a little better. That was, until they got to the dairy section.

“One time I bought skim milk by mistake. It was like drinking white water,” Steve admitted to Bucky, who was staring at the display of yogurt shaking his head, muttering to himself.

“Girl at Starbucks the other day asked me if 2% was okay in the drink Nat ordered for me. Two percent of what? And what happened to milk bottles? All the shit they have here tastes like plastic. It can’t be healthy. All this food tastes like fucking plastic!” Bucky’s voice was raised as he gestured around the grocery store. 

“And why is everything shaped like circus animals?” Steve said, looking at some crackers on display at the end of the aisle that caught his eye.

“Hydra fed me better,” Bucky muttered. 

“Buck, don’t say shit like that,” Steve admonished, elbowing Bucky in the ribs.

“I bet you there are rich white women in California right now who would pay me a fortune for the secrets of the Hydra tube-feeding diet.” 

Steve was about to object until he thought about it for a second and realized that Bucky was probably right. 

“Come on, I don’t want to go all the way to the butcher's. Supposedly this place has meat that isn’t full of growth hormones.”

Bucky barked out a laugh. 

“What?” Steve asked.

“You’re worried about growth hormones? You?” 

“Ha. Ha. Very funny, asshole.”

The meat counter was less objectionable--even Whole Foods couldn’t really fuck up raw meat--until they started looking at the prices. Steve could see a rant about to form on Bucky's face until Bucky caught sight of the sale price. 

“You know that’s not a bad price for fish, Stevie.” 

“Wild caught,” Steve read. “That’s good, right?”

“Means it’s more likely to taste like a fucking fish,” Bucky said. 

He flagged the clerk over--another kid with purple hair who definitely only wore plaid ironically and was assuredly not trained as a real butcher.

“Can I get that trout,” Bucky asked as politely as he could. He was still working on his human skills. 

“Um, how many pounds do you want?” The kid asked, clearly terrified by the two walls of muscle both trying not to scowl across the counter. 

“I can’t eyeball the weight of a fish. I’m from fucking Brooklyn. I want _that_ fish.” Bucky jabbed his right index finger at the case, pointing to the fish. 

“Uh, that’s the display fish, sir.” 

"Display fish? What the fuck is a display fish? Just tell me how much for the fucking trout!”

“Um, let me get my manager," the kid stuttered out as he started inching away.

“You don’t have to get your manager involved. Just weigh the damn fish, wrap in butcher paper, and I will be on my way.”

“Butcher paper?” 

“Jesus fucking--do I have to come around there and do it myself?” 

“No! Don’t come back here! I’ll do it.” The kid jumped and, red-faced and shaking, followed Bucky’s orders.

“The white paper is fine, son,” Steve said, when the kid hesitated.

“Jesus, they even bleach the paper here,” Bucky groaned. “Is nothing sacred.”

“Natasha was telling me about anal bleaching the other day,” Steve said.

“Anal bleaching!?” Bucky said loud enough for the kid to almost drop the fish and for a group of women behind them in line to start giggling. 

“Why the fuck would you put bleach near your asshole?” 

“Other than for pornos? I don’t know, Buck,” Steve said sadly. 

“Here you go, sir,” the kid squeaked, handing Bucky the wrapped fish.

“Thanks,” Bucky replied gruffly. Then to Steve, “Can we get the fuck out of here before I murder someone.” 

It wasn’t an empty threat. 

As they stood in the obscenely long line, they were bombarded with the “healthy” candy on display. The number of things you could cover in dark chocolate was truly astonishing.

“What the shit is an organic jelly bean?” Bucky groaned. “I swear to Christ, Steve. Can one of your Superfriends invent a time machine already?” 

“Cacao nibs? Hemp seeds?” Steve read off the labels.

“What happened to normal shit like Hershey Bars?” 

“You know they still make those!” Steve insisted.

“They taste different, though,” Bucky said glumly.  

Steve sighed and nodded. “You know, Tony had Jarvis order me Werther’s Originals and black licorice. I think it was supposed to be a joke.”

“Say, do you still have the Werther’s?” 

“Sam made fun of me for having a candy dish, so I hid them behind the stove.”

“Nice.”

“Don’t eat them all.”

Buck put his hands up in mock surrender. 

It was finally their turn in line, and it was all going smoothing, until the cashier told them the price and Bucky exploded.

“We have three things! Three! How in God’s creation is that forty dollars?” 

Steve threw his arm out across Bucky’s chest to stop him from leaning toward the already terrified cashier. 

“Well, that’s a big bag of flour,” the cashier started. “And this is Brookl--”

“Listen, son,” Bucky replied, standing up straight and puffing out his chest. “Right here in this spot used to be Anderson’s Five and Dime. They used to give vets a discount.” 

“Bucky,” Steve interrupted, starting to sense that this was probably going to end up on the Internet.

“No! First, the kid at the ‘butcher’ counter gives me shit about wanting a whole fish. Like I don’t know they waste the heads and bones. And then they try to charge you 12 dollars for a bag of fucking flour? This isn’t what I ‘died’ for my country for. You know what I’m talking about!” Bucky shouted, pointing toward the old man bagging the groceries. 

The old man nodded slowly. “This place will rob you blind.”

As Bucky was just about to start up again, a woman in a pantsuit started coming toward them, so Steve threw the cash on the counter and pushed Bucky toward the door.

“Thanks!” He called. “Um, don't worry! We won’t be back.”

 

* * * * *

 

When Bucky and Steve got back to the tower with one shopping bag, Natasha looked at them curiously.

“I thought you were going grocery shopping.”

“We did,” Steve said.

Bucky ignored them in favor of unwrapping his fish. He had been hungry before they even went to the grocery store, so he whipped out a filet knife and got to work.

“Hey, get me the butter, Stevie,” Bucky called over to Steve, who followed Bucky’s lead in order to ignore the inevitable deluge of questions. 

“Is that a trout?” Natasha asked. 

“It has eyes,” Clint said. “It’s looking at me funny. They can filet this for you at the store, you know.”

Bucky grabbed a coffee mug off the Iron Man mug tree and threw it Clint’s head. The only thing that saved Clint from another bandage on his face was Steve catching it inches before impact. 

“Don’t get him started,” Steve said. 

“Baking soda?” Natasha said peering into the bag. “And 10 pounds of flour.”

“What are you going to do with--”

“Soda bread," Steve interrupted. "The yeast was a rip-off. There’s an Amish market upstate. I saw it on my last bike trip."

“An Amish market? You think they have lye?” Bucky asked.

“Oh, that’s a good idea. I’ll start a list,” Steve replied. “We’re going to have to take your truck.”

“Lye?” Clint asked with an eyebrow raised to Natasha. 

“Soap?” Natasha guessed. 

“Two dollars for a tiny bar of Ivory. It’s such a waste of packaging,” Bucky said. “And I don’t need to smell like a fucking mountain breeze. What the fuck does a mountain breeze even smell like? I’ve been in the mountains. It’s so cold you’re lucky if your nose doesn’t freeze. Anyone who's bothering to sniff the air would get themselves shot.”

Clint and Natasha looked at each other and backed out of the room slowly.

 

* * * * *

 

A couple days later, Steve asked Jarvis where the pressure cooker was. The request was enough to even throw off the A.I., so Tony physically came out of the lab and caught up with Steve to ask if Jarvis heard him right.

“It’s canning season,” Steve said. “Are you telling me that people don’t can anymore?”

“I...” Tony stared at Steve with his jaw hanging open.

“We found a fruit stand that had peaches,” a voice called from behind the bar. 

“Didn’t see you there, Metalocalypse. What are you doing behind my bar? Don’t answer that. You know you can get peaches all year round, right? Hell, they even have them at Whole Foods,” Tony replied.

Bucky banged his metal fist on top of the bar. Luckily given the type of parties Tony threw, it was reinforced steel. 

“They ship those from South America! What the fuck is wrong with you? They don’t even taste like peaches. It’s like the bananas all over again! I might have had my mind erased, but I remember what a fucking banana tastes like.”

Tony looked back at Steve, hoping that he would pull a Captain America-style intervention on the rant, but Steve’s arms were crossed as he leaned against the counter and nodded along to Bucky’s rant. 

 

* * * * *

 

That was when Tony decided to call the other Avengers in for a meeting. 

“Have you all noticed that Capsicle and Buckybot are acting really, well, weird?” Tony started. “It’s like they’re turning into grandmothers--big, burly, could snap your neck with their bare hands grandmothers. Huh. Anyone else curiously aroused right now?”

Sam rolled his eyes at Tony. “Steve has been weird about modern food since I met him, but he seemed to be adjusting okay, until...well.”

“He liked the shawarma,” Tony said. “He definitely liked the shawarma. Oh. That sounds good. Jarvis? Dinner tonight--order shawarma.” 

“As you wish, sir,” Jarvis responded.

“The other day I came in and Bucky was eating walnuts,” Clint jumped in. “Normal enough. But he was eating shelled walnuts that he was cracking open with his metal hand.” 

“I caught Steve eating baker's chocolate the other day because ‘it’s not as sweet’,” Rhodey added. 

“Bucky stole my really good silk stockings--to store onions in,” Natasha said with a scowl.

“Bucky got the slip on you?” Clint asked. “Living in Avengers Tower is making you soft, Nat.”

“Of course I knew he took them! I was trying to be respectful of his privacy. I don’t want to know what he and Steve get up to.” 

“Apparently what they get up to is being my granny,” Sam said. “I tried to be supportive, but they took me and Wanda to New Jersey to pick blueberries. Even Granny buys pie berries at the store. I’m all for team-building, but I didn’t sign up for this.”

“We need to get them a co-op share,” Bruce said thoughtfully. 

“Or therapy,” Rhodey replied. “Lots and lots of therapy.

Wanda was noticeably silent. 

 

* * * * *

 

During the next team meeting, it was Steve who brought it up, surprising everyone in the room other than Bucky and Wanda.

“Apparently you think I’m relapsing since Bucky moved in and not adjusting well enough to the 21st century. Of course, if you were _actually_ worried about me, you could talk to me like I'm a real person, you know. Instead of having secret meetings behind my back.”

“We weren’t trying to go behind your back, Steve,” Sam said diplomatically.

“We just wanted to make sure it was a pattern of behavior,” Natasha said. “But, since you brought it up, we do all think that maybe you’re regressing a little.”

No longer intimidated by the Black Widow, Wanda glared at Natasha.

“Most of us, anyway,” Natasha added.

Tony crossed his arms. “You guys are the same age as my dad! He wasn’t canning his own beets.”

“Howard was rich!” Steve shouted, loud enough to make everyone in the room go still.  

“He didn’t know what it was like,” Bucky added quietly. “None of you--you don’t--this is what life was like the last time we  _ had _ lives. I was born in Indiana. We moved to Brooklyn because we lost the farm. My grandma never got used to the city--she was always baking or making preserves...” 

“We had to stretch food,” Steve added. “Ma and I had to make a head of cabbage last a full week.”

Clint reached over and put a hand over Wanda’s, giving it a squeeze.

“But it’s not just the food. This is how we passed time, how we kept busy. Being an Avenger isn’t what I want to have on my mind all the time. Making apple butter to give to other tenants in the building at Christmas is what Grandma Barnes did every year. That’s normal. If I’m not doing something with my hands, I get…” Bucky looked down at his hands.

“It’s the same way you dick around in your workshop all the time, Tony,” Steve broke in. “People today sit around all the time. It’s not that you’re lazy or just watching mind-numbing TV all the time. But, god, it seems like all you do is go out to a coffee shop and sit and talk. Or to a restaurant and sit for hours. It’s boring. We never--in the evenings sometimes, we’d turn on the radio, and I’d draw--” 

“But we had to take care of ourselves,” Bucky cut in. “We had to be useful.”

A table full of chastized Avengers sat quietly, avoiding making eye contact with Steve, Bucky, or each other. 

“I’m not afraid of the microwave,” Steve added. “Or the dishwasher. I just don’t have a reason to use them.”  

“I’m sorry, Steve.” It was Clint who spoke first. 

“Yeah, I guess I never really tried to think about it from your perspective,” Sam added.

“The thing is, you don't _know_ my perspective. You’re all so worried about me and Buck assimilating, but there are some things that I _want_ to remember,” Steve said. “Grandma Barnes’ apple butter was the best thing about Christmas.”

“Well, consider this a privilege check,” Tony said. “Pepper says I need to work on that. She’ll be pleased with my personal growth. Does this mean you liked the Werther’s?”

“You know that Werther’s are German, right?” Steve said. “We didn’t have those here in the 40s.”

Tony’s face fell. “Even my joke failed. Jarvis, I’m blaming you for this--”

Bucky cut off Tony’s rant with a clearing of his throat. 

“So, Stark,” Bucky started. “Does this mean I can put a chicken coop up on the roof?”

“A chicken coop? This is Manhattan! I’d probably need permits to keep livestock on my roof. I mean, there’s always a way to get around a permit. I might even be able to turn it into a tax break. I’ll need to--wait, why do you want a chicken coop? You know Clint’s going to name them and get attached.”

“Hey!” Clint said.

“He’s not wrong,” Natasha muttered.

“Fresh eggs,” Bucky said, as if it were obvious. “Do you have any idea how much fucking Whole Foods charges for a dozen eggs?”

And that was when everyone in the room, except Steve, got up and ran.  

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://tuesdaymidnight.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/tuesdaymidnight) so we can cry about Sebastian Stan together.


End file.
